


A Human Thing

by beekeepercain



Series: In Fewer Words [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cold, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, M/M, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fallen angel is only that much a human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Human Thing

**Author's Note:**

> The past five days I've written ~18 000 words to _Nobody's Fault_ , and I guess I just needed to get rid of that somehow. This... is everything _Nobody's Fault_ isn't.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Dean dragged his finger gently down the bridge of Castiel's nose as if drawing a line onto it. He smiled - the fallen angel was looking away, but the corners of his mouth weren't quite relaxed and hinted towards a smile that he wasn't letting loose.  
  
The sky was dark and lit by a million stars, the crispy snow underneath their shoes reflecting the light of the street lamps in the image of the cosmic fires like worshippers admiring their gods. Wind was bitter and cold, the temperature much below freezing; behind them, the welcoming warmth of the motel seemed to keep them content by its promise of quick relief. The window of their room flashed in tune to the program on TV; two other windows in the motel were flashing along.

"How's it feel?" Dean asked.  
He leaned back on the cold metal of the Impala's hood, palm sliding along it until his skin felt like it was burning. He stopped there and the surface soon warmed up to him - next it was the top of his hand that was gnawed at by the winter weather.

Castiel turned to look at him, confused.  
"How does what feel?"

Dean watched him for a moment in silence, still smiling. He adored that look, the frown and the slight tilt of Castiel's head towards his shoulder, both so very characteristic to him, the first forms of body language he'd used in communication that had survived even to date. The younger hoped they would never be lost in the sea of new means Castiel would eventually learn.

"Cold. I meant the cold, Cas," he finally clarified with a crooked grin, almost mocking, deliberately making it seem like anyone else would have understood and that Castiel was just being slow again.  
The shame visible on the older was cute, but that wasn't the reason Dean teased him.

"I've been cold before. It's uncomfortable, but I wouldn't trade it for warmth if it meant changing the season. It has a certain charm to it. I can't quite describe how it feels."

Listening to his attempts to describe the most mundane feelings gave Dean a new perspective to them. He sighed a cloud of white and pulled his leg up on the bumper of the car. The other was still in the snow and the sole of that foot was slowly growing cold.  
"You know what I'd like to do tonight?" he asked casually after a moment had passed in silence.

"I wouldn't know."

"Yeah," Dean huffed, "I guess you wouldn't. But amuse me. Go ahead and try, read my mind."

Castiel squinted at him and was clearly trying to decide how he should intepret the words. Then he gave up and turned his gaze back towards the city not too far from where they were. The motel had a good view down towards it - its glow resembled a pile of treasure just waiting to be collected. Dean reached a hand out for it and imagined how all that gold would feel; how the rubies would slide through his fingers, the tiny diamonds and the pearls pulsing between the rows of buildings decorated with silver and brass.

"I can't read your mind."

"Yeah," Dean said again, not bothering to turn his gaze to the older, "that's the whole point. I want you to try so I can look at you like you were crazy and tell you that wasn't anywhere near what I was thinking. It's a human thing. Come on, be quick, I'm losing fingers here."

Castiel lowered his gaze to his knees and then to Dean's - he brought out his hand and started drawing figures on the younger's jeans, just above his knee. It felt weird and mildly uncomfortable but Dean allowed him to continue regardless, and soon the odd pressure in the muscles around his knee cap lessened and faded.

"You'd want to, mm, head back inside, grab a beer and settle on the couch to watch a movie. In silence, you wouldn't want to speak."

Surprised, Dean looked up at the man sitting next to him, but Castiel was still staring down and didn't react to his attempt at an eye contact.

"First you'd like to have a hot shower. You wouldn't be satisfied until the room was full of steam, and the silence would start when you'd get out of there. You'd want me and Sam to watch the movie with you even though you wouldn't want us to speak; just being there would be enough. You'd wish Sam had that old pack of popcorn still somewhere in his bag and if it was there, you'd ask him to microwave it for us. And then you'd like to sleep."  
Finally the fallen angel stirred and looked at him.  
"How far off?" he asked uncertainly.

Dean gaped.  
"Um, yeah, not bad?" he replied, utterly dumbstruck by the accuracy of the older's prediction, not to mention slightly ashamed by it, "But you missed the most important part."

He wasn't certain if the blush on the older's cheeks was from cold or if it rose because he'd yet again found fault in his results. Grimacing, Dean brushed his hand through the angel's hair and gripped him by it, turning his head just enough to see all of his face at once.

"I'd like to start by kissing you."

Castiel's lips were the fastest medication to the cold that had grown on him like a second layer of skin.


End file.
